


And I Crash and I Break Down

by Innocentfighter



Series: Safe and Sound [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alfred keeps things together, Anger, Angst, Batfamily Feels, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Brother Feels, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Trying, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Character Death, Crying, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Grieving, Hurt No Comfort, Jason Todd is Dead, Mourning, Sadness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocentfighter/pseuds/Innocentfighter
Summary: No one handles Jason's death well





	1. Dick: I've Lost so Much Along the Way

**Author's Note:**

> Wow Two Stories in a few two days and not even a fandom week. Yay me Chapter title is from Pieces by Red! Enjoy!  
> The title is from Human by Christina Perri but the Jared Halley cover!

Dick doesn’t know how long he stayed in the Batcave. In theory, it should almost be time to start getting ready, but he can’t bring himself from standing and walking towards the elevator. The glass reflects his image back at him, for once he looks as bad as he feels. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging harshly, but his hand falls limp. Echoes of taunts seem to emanate from somewhere behind him and there are shadows that seem to form a person but the merge into their true form when he spins to look at him.

Sleep has been impossible for him. The exhaustion seeps into his bones. Moving seems impossible so he keeps staring at the glass case in front of him. It’s Jason’s Robin uniform, well one of his extras. Alfred must have placed the new one on the mannequin without thinking. No one else has been down here since then. It’s the perfect place for Dick to hide out. He thinks they should move it somewhere else, its too strange now to see it next to his Nightwing costume. Not as strange as it had been seeing Jason in it for the first time.

Dick sags further into the chair. He wishes he had reacted differently. Jason earned that costume, he did it proudly and died wearing it. It’s one more thing this city took from him, Jason was like Bruce in the way that he loved Gotham that laying down his life for it didn’t seem like too high of a price. Maybe it would hurt less if that’s what happened, an act of sacrifice and not at the end of a vendetta. Bruce has done nothing about the Clown Prince creating havoc in the lower east end. There have been no fatalities, but many reports of citizens hearing about how Joker killed Robin.

He clenches his fist. There’s nothing he would like more than to snap the clown’s neck, but Bruce’s lectures keep him in place. They were never enough for Jason, enough to keep him from killing but never enough to convince him everyone gets a chance.

“ _How many chances are you going to give that madman?”_

_“We do not kill.”_

_“He almost killed me! Are you saying you care more about your stupid rule than my life?”_

_“No, that’s not-”_

_“If he held a gun to my head, and told you to choose, kill him or watch me die what would you do?”_

_“…”_

Dick shakes his head, that was a conversation he never meant to here. He doesn’t like that Jason would make Bruce have to choose between his morals (which is part of the reason he’s such a good person) and his son (now that Dick’s older, he can see how much each and every one of them mean to Bruce). It’s worse that Bruce didn’t try to dodge the question, which meant he didn’t know the answer. Personally, Dick would prefer it if none of his family had to kill, but if there was a good enough reason he would never hate them for it (he would never hate them period), but even he knew what choice he would make.

Bruce not knowing this was a little terrifying.

He glances back at the case. It’s been years since he’s been Robin, but he remembers the feeling of wearing the costume. When he wore it is was to help prevent kids from becoming orphans like he and Bruce. Jason wore it as proof that he can be better than where he came from. It’s also proof that Gotham is a black hole, Dick knows that it was only a matter of time before one of them didn’t make it home. This was a long time coming, he just wishes it never came.

Right now, he wishes Jason had never worn the suit. Dick stands and slams his hand onto the glass. The cases are made from stronger glass than usual, but it’s not unbreakable. He hates that it mirrors his own costume almost perfectly. Jason may have worn the costume without his permission the first time, but Dick told him it was fine, he passed the mantle over.

He should have gone with Jason that night. Batman would have been alone, but he fought crime alone a long time before he wore the R for the first time. If he had gone with him then Jay might have been still alive, and Tim would have never put on the costume. That costume is a curse disguised as a blessing. It takes from you everything and in the end, it leaves you pain, Dick knows the feeling of being Robin seems to be worth the trade but now he wonders if it is.

He’ll never be able to have a normal life, not that performing the circus was exactly normal by societies standards, he’ll always have the instinct to be the one that gets hurt instead of a civilian because he’s been trained to take the pain. Jason won’t get to grow up and make his own choice about being a vigilante. Tim, well, Dick sighs, Tim is going to give up everything to make up for failing Jason when it mattered most and saving Bruce from himself. Damian will eventually want the mantle because he’ll think it’ll make him more worthy of Bruce’s love because he still doesn’t understand it’s freely given.

God, he should have never passed the mantle over to Jason. Best to let the curse start and end with him. His fist slowly uncurls, and he presses his palm to the glass. The mask seems to taunt him, asking why he wasn’t there when Jason fell. It’s easy for him to picture, too easy, it’s his parents but his mother’s face slowly morphs into Jason’s and by the time she hits the ground it’s Robin covered in his own blood.

He should probably as Leslie for something to help him sleep. The image has haunted him ever since Tim fully explained what happened. The shot. The fall. The death. It’s the exact damn thing.

“Master Richard, it’s nearly time.”

Dick drops the hand and curls his fingers into his palm, “sure. I’ll make myself presentable for the press.”

“This is not for the press,” Alfred reminds him gently.

Dick punches the glass, this time it does shatter, “It is! Everything in Bruce Wayne’s life is for the press. We can’t be too distraught, or they’ll spin rumors, but we can’t be too unaffected because then they’ll make theories.”

Alfred rushes to his side and picks up the now bleeding arm. Dick can barely feel the sting with the anger that courses through him.

“You know what they’re saying about Jason?” Dick growls, “they’re saying he’s some street rat, that he spat in the face of Bruce Wayne’s generosity.”

“We know the truth,” Alfred pulls a roll of bandages out as if he expected this. He probably did.

“That’s supposed to make it better? This is just like when Bruce adopted him, the press all thought he was going to be a trouble kid and that he’s going to be a rebel. They didn’t even care to look into his past and see that his mom died of an overdose…”

Alfred treats his wound carefully, “I’ll clean this better after you shower. You must remember Master Richard when you signed up for this you knew it would be thankless.”

“I didn’t know how much it would take,” Dick whispers.

“We rarely know the price until we get the bill.”


	2. Bruce: I'll Use You as a Warning Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up Alfred! Why is Bruce so hard to write? Why do the boys grieve in the same way? Chapter title is I Found by Amber Run

Bruce knows he should be downstairs. The wake hasn’t ended yet and Alfred would scold him. Except there’s no one he needs to greet and smile for, Jason’s funeral was small for a billionaire heir. He didn’t have the time to make an impression on people. Diana and Clark had already tried to offer their sympathies, but they didn’t get it. They didn’t know what it felt like to lose a son.

There’s a picture frame on the corner of his desk, it's him and Jason when shortly after Jason’s custody was won. Bruce took Jason to some Shakespeare in the Park festival, he didn’t remember a time before then that Jason looked so happy. A photographer had gotten a lucky shot, Jason’s arms were positioned like he was explaining something (Bruce distinctly remembers acting like he had no idea what King John was about), and Bruce himself was sitting back on his hands watching his son with a small but fond smile. It might have been the last time they spent time like that, Tim came to the picture only a few months after that and then the fight with Dick.

Its no wonder he saw the resentment of him grown in Jason. All the parenting books he read spoke about middle children being the trouble child, but Jason wasn’t trouble (none of his sons were), it was hard to divide his attention equally. Hard but not impossible, he reminded himself, he should have tried harder. Now he doesn’t have the chance to fix it.

Bruce surges up swinging his arm out along his desk. Papers and knickknacks clatter and shatter on the ground. The picture frame remains, Bruce slams it face down. There’s a quiet crack as the glass gives way, but he doesn’t care. He should have known better than to send Jason after someone alone. Dick should have gone with him, but Bruce didn’t want Dick thinking that Bruce thought he couldn’t handle something like a bombing brought about by Harley Quinn.

Dick probably wouldn’t have thought that now that he thinks about it. His eldest might not like some of the orders he gets, but he almost always follows them because Batman knows best. This time Bruce didn’t, he let his emotions get in the way and Jason paid the price. He should have known that the bombing was cover for something else, Harley rarely went to such extremes unless Joker told her she needed to. Was the first time not enough of a warning for him?

Bruce ran a hand up his face and into his hair. He should have stopped Jason from being Robin again after the incident, but he knew that Jason would just go behind his back. The need for his sons to help people seemed to be ingrained in their bones. Keeping Jason on as Robin had seemed to him to be the lesser of two evils, at least he could keep an eye on him. Now he sees that it was a mistake.

Tim’s first appearance of Robin would be his last if Bruce had any say in it, and he did. There would be no more Robin after tonight. He knows Dick and Tim will fight him on this but hopefully, Alfred will be on his side.

Bruce drops heavily, and his eyes are drawn to a second photograph that survived his attack on his desk. Alfred took that one last Christmas; all four boys are decked out in ugly Christmas sweaters and are frozen mid-argument. Dick has his arms around Damian’s waist holding him back and it looks like the boy had launched himself at Tim (again). Tim, on the other hand, had taken refuge behind the chair that Jason was sitting in. Jason’s head was thrown back and his hands were holding his stomach. Bruce could just make out himself in the direction Jason was looking, and if he recalls it right Jason had been chuckling before that, but Bruce’s face made him lose it.

He doesn’t think they had photo more recent than this with all four of them. Bruce picks up the frame and stares at it as if it would cause the scene to come back to life. There’s a second where he wants to launch it at a wall and break everything in this office. His room hadn’t survived after he lost his parents, why should his office? He sets the frame back on the desk and picks up the other one of him and Jason. The crack runs along the middle of the frame, splitting Jason and him apart. Bruce runs his thumb over Jason’s face before standing.

The frame is held carefully in his hands as he makes his way over to the fireplace. In the middle of the mantle, there’s a gilded gold frame, the picture is faded and creases of white could be seen. Three faces stare out into nothing smiling happily. Bruce sees himself, he’s seven and grinning wildly almost as wildly as Dick’s trademarked smiles. The hands on his shoulders connect to his parents. Martha Wayne smiles coyly at the camera, her bright red hair hanging loose for once and Thomas Wayne has a smile almost as bright as Bruce’s own and sharply dressed as he always was. He stares at the picture of a little longer before he sets the one he’s holding down next to it.

There’s no fire, so Bruce has to content himself with staring at the ashes. He has a lot to do, and now he must prepare himself for the cold shoulders that Tim and Dick were about to give him. Faint conversation travels up from the floor below, Clark’s voice carries easily and Bruce knows that its only a matter of time before his best friend comes to check on him no doubt he heard the crashes from earlier.

Bruce pushes himself away from the fireplace and strides towards the door. He straightens his back and walks out. He knows the reason why his office can survive his grief, it’s because when he lost his parents there was no one to be angry at but now he knows exactly who deserves his entire wrath and it’s himself.

It’s his fault Jason died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always leave your thoughts and constructive criticisms below.


	3. And Here on Earth Everything Thing's Different, There's an Emptiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Alfred is the hardest to write. This one is a little different as in I try to kind of build what kind of home Wayne Manor is as well as what kind of kid Jason was. It's more light-hearted than the other chapters. As always enjoy.   
> The chapter title is from Dancing in the Sky by Dani and Lizzy.

For the first time, Alfred doesn’t know what to do. Wayne Manor has always been a straightforward mission: keep the house from falling into shambles and keep the young masters healthy. For the longest time he had feared that Bruce wouldn’t bounce back from his parent’s death, and as he watched the boy grow he feared he’d have to bury the man he thought of a son. He’d never say it aloud, it would dishonor the Waynes and what they meant to Bruce.

Learning how to help Bruce with his crusade had just been another more intricate part of keeping him healthy. He learned more about Gotham crime and practiced his first aid until it was up to his standards.

Young Richard, despite the circumstances surrounding it, had been a blessing when he was brought into the home. Alfred spent less time sewing Bruce back together and more time responding to inane chatter while preparing breakfast. The boy had been good for Bruce, and despite Bruce’s initial reluctance, the boy was good for him. There was more smile and laughter that first year than Alfred had ever heard in the manor. Bruce looked less haunted and Dick slowly began to heal after his parents’ deaths.

Alfred thinks he would have been content with that life, then Bruce comes home with a strange faraway look. He knew what Bruce had been thinking about and a few gentle prodding questions later, reveal that Bruce had encountered a boy by the name of Jason Todd. The name was already on the computer as it pulled up everything it could, a birth certificate and two newspaper clippings. Willis Todd in jail for aggravated assault and an obituary for Catherine Todd, both dated over a year ago.

It wasn’t a surprise when he saw the adoption papers already drawn up and two weeks later Jason Todd enters Wayne Manor for the first time. Alfred notes immediately that he’s skinny for his age and in need of a bath, but what catches his attention is Jason’s eyes. Pale blue like Bruce’s but sparking with a light that says _I’m alive, deal with it._ He worries that Jason might be too difficult a child for Bruce’s meager parenting skills and Dick’s exuberant nature. Although, he wouldn’t dare give up on the boy before even knowing him.

It’s a question that nags at him for years, how many people gave up on Jason Todd without giving him a chance.

Those first weeks fly by, Jason getting up to weight and looking healthier. He and Dick fought more than average siblings and they were always more violent. Jason was standoffish, and Bruce seemed to be exhausted. Then the spring term started for Gotham Academy and Alfred has never seen a child so excited to go to school.

_“I had to drop out when mama fell sick.”_

_“I wonder what we’ll get to read!”_

Jason calmed down and he and Dick started getting along better. Jason understood literature, but he was behind in math and Dick struggled with the reading but excelled in math. Alfred watched them bond and saw Bruce relax. Their little family became tighter, and Alfred thought the boys would become inseparable.

Alfred shakes his head, he realizes he’s been standing in the hallway lost in his memories. He glances at the door wooden letters equally spread apart spelled out JASON. The room needs to be aired out within the week, he knows, but he’s sure the books won’t mind being stuffy for much longer. Instead, he returns to the foyer where the wake is being held.

He’s greeted by an overlarge portrait of Jason. It’s his senior photo, for once his hair remains nicely combed and while his mouth is set into a distinctly bored smile his eyes still glimmer with that light of his. The one that challenged anyone to tell him he was better off dead. Alfred reminds himself to cancel the order he had called in for Jason’s birthday, it was a complete set of Jane Austen’s books, not original but the pages had been all treated to look aged, and the covers were drawn to look distinctly old.

Richard has managed to secure himself a chair by the window. His tux is disheveled, and his tie is askew. Alfred walks over to him and crouches to fix the outfit into something more presentable. Clark was the main reporter for the funeral, but the Gotham Gazette had badgered their way into the funeral. He knows that Bruce is going to deal with that once this is done. Richard glances at him and then back out towards the window. It’s familiar to the first few days in the manor when all he could do was cry for his parents. Alfred thinks that other people’s messy grief makes working through his own easier. He cleaned up enough after Bruce in the months following his parents’ deaths.

Richard eventually smiles gratefully. It’s octaves off from its usual brilliance, but Alfred takes that as a win. He stands back up, his knees protest the move, but he ignores it with practiced ease. The next familiar face he sees is Timothy’s somber frown. Out of all his charges, Timothy is handing it the best despite perhaps having the worse burden placed on him. Jason had been the brother he looked up to, Richard having been focused on being Robin, it made Jason step up to fulfill the role of big brother. He took to it worse than Richard had with him.

Somewhere along the lines, Jason started to help Timothy with his homework and reading at night. They only grew closer when Jason took the mantle of Robin and Richard rarely stayed at the manor.

Alfred watches as Timothy makes small talk with Diana. He doesn’t need to interrupt so Alfred turns to find the youngest of the boys. After a minute of scanning, he determines that the boy is not in the foyer. Damian is much like his father in that way, he’d rather work through his emotions privately. Richard and Damian were the closest to each other, and Alfred suspects part of the reason the youngest is not in the room is that Richard is not acting himself.

He steps out of the room, his plan is to find Damian, to make sure the boy hadn’t done any damage to himself or property. Alfred manages to get a few hallways away when he finally lets himself slow down. Since Jason was brought back to the cave he hasn’t stopped to let it sink in. He had to clean and sew up the wounds on Jason’s body and then he’s had to make sure that the house wasn’t going to implode with grief.

Martha and Thomas Wayne were that people to die under his care, and if he had his choice he would have been the first to go. If fathers should never outlive their sons, Grandfathers should never have to bury a grandson. Jason would become nothing more than a haunting presence and a picture frame on the wall. Alfred would never get to see him graduate high school.

_“Hey, Alfred? I’m a senior this year.”_

_“Yes, you are, have you given more thought to what college you want to attend?”_

_“I want to stay close, so probably Gotham U, but Met U is also on the list.”_

_“Both have excellent teaching programs.”_

_“When I graduate, you’ll watch, right? See me get my diploma?”_

_“I wouldn’t dare miss it.”_

The acceptance letter hung on the fridge, Jason had managed to not only get into Gotham University, but he had been offered a full ride due to his excellent high school career. Alfred had never seen the boy so happy, and as a result, the manor had been particularly light the past month. Now that had been sucked out. His next task should probably be to carefully store all of Jason’s belong. Bruce wouldn’t want to get rid of them yet, neither would the boys, but he thinks it might lessen some of the pain to not have the reminders in every room.

Alfred pulled down his overcoat. There is work to be done and guests in the manor, he would mourn once he completed his other task of keeping his charges healthy. He must check on Damian and then politely usher the guests from the home. Work is balm for the soul, or at least that’s what his mother told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I wasn't sure how I wanted to spin Alfred's grief, so I kind of had him pushing it aside to work through it (if that makes any sense) like I said he's been the hardest to get in the head of and if I had my choice I won't be doing that again, but it depends on the demands of the series. As always thoughts and comments below! Thanks for reading!


	4. Not Ready to Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I promise I'm going to back off the Jason arc for the time being. I think I'm going to write the boys coming to the manor, and then a couple of pieces about Dick before I try to write the Incident (aka Jason v Joker) and maybe explore some of Tim's arc (he and Damian have the least specific pre-return arc, because that's the separation of the story.)  
> Damian is the easiest batboy to write, next to Jason (but that's because that's who I've been focusing on). And I love their dynamic (especially when I play with them in the canon universe)  
> Chapter title is Not Ready to Say Goodbye by Leah Nobel  
> Enjoy!

Damian sneaks out of the foyer almost as soon as guests started arriving. He made sure to stay long enough for the press to note his presence, but not long enough for them to circle the room towards him. Being around people was too much right now, he fears that he would say something he would regret and cause more trouble for the rest of the family. His feet carry him down the hallway almost automatically.

He stops once his hand touches the handle. Under normal circumstances, the door would be open to him. This room has been his haven so many times between adjusting to the American lifestyle and hiding because his own mind started to bite at him. No one else would dare to enter, even if they were aware of this habit of his. Damian glances at the wood, and he’s never had a particularly strong emotion towards the wooden letters but right now he hates them with every fiber of their being. The red seems to taunt him with the truth of what happened.

Instead of hiding out in the hallway, he enters the room. Slowly he closes the door. His back is turned to the space, wondering what it would look like. He shakes his head and gathers himself, it’s just a room and the situation surrounding it should affect it. Damian turns and then almost wishes he hadn’t. The bed is made but wrinkled in the way that showed someone had laid on it. There’s a half-drunk bottle of water on the nightstand and a phone without a charger cord attached to it. It’s nothing Damian had never seen, but it feels like he’s seeing it for the first time.

He takes half a step forward and hesitates. This is the last place that Todd existed in. His open bookbag is propped against the desk, and papers with long equations were scattered across the top and some places on the floor. He could almost picture Todd working on the homework and then getting frustrated, so he shoved everything to the side to get ready for patrol.

Damian steps away from the desk and instead turns his attention to the other side. The wardrobe’s doors hang open and the closet is only partly closed. Todd's favorite hoodie hangs on the handle. This is the only thing Damian feels comfortable about disturbing, he walks over to it. He glances behind him, as if someone would walk in on him, and then certain he was alone he lifted the fabric to his nose. It smells like spiced apples and a hint of cigarette smoke (he knows Todd tried to hide it, but everyone always knew).

With the hoodie held tight to his chest, he steps over to the open wardrobe and crawls into it. The clothes hang around him and the scent was stronger in here, if he closed his eyes he could almost envision that he was wrapped up in a hug from Todd. It was missing the warmth and he didn’t remember exactly what Todd’s hugs felt like (part of him wished that he had sought out more hugs, Grayson was free with them and Drake would give them unprompted more frequently than Todd). He wasn’t a hugger, but he can see now the comfort that they can give.

Damian pushes himself further back into the wardrobe. The shirts that had “fallen” off their hangers made the bottom slightly more comfortable. He pulls the hoodie closer to his body, part of him wants to wear it but he knows that would make the scent fade sooner and if this was all he would have left of one of his older brothers he was going to hold onto it as much as he could.

Death hadn’t been a part of his life when he was with Mother. He had been trained to kill and had only killed in the test Grandfather gave him, but it had never been a thing that you could connect emotions to. Whenever grandfather’s body started failing, and it was only once in his life, he just entered the pit and came out completely healthy. Damian hadn’t made friends with any of the assassins and he hadn’t been around other kids, he didn’t have many human connections.

He liked them, liked knowing for the most part that he could have a moment of weakness and his family wouldn’t judge him (Todd had told him to use the wardrobe when things became too much). Except he didn’t like how he felt when either Father or Grayson or Todd came back heavily wounded. He only vaguely remembers what it was like after Todd had been beaten by the Joker, part of him was glad he hadn’t opened to them yet.

* * *

 

_Todd’s head appeared from under the crawlspace door, “there you are, you had everyone worried.”_

_“I can handle myself,” Damian mumbled._

_“Sure,” Todd shrugged and continued to climb into the crawlspace, “but you disappearing like that freaks everyone else out.”_

_Damian glared, “there was no threat.”_

_“Think about what happened to me,” Todd said quietly._

_“I haven’t left the grounds,” he said but his gaze drifted to the scars on Todd’s bare arm._

_Todd settled in the space but didn’t move towards Damian,“why are you even up here?”_

_“Drake made accusations,” Damian attempted to mimic Todd’s careless shrug, “so I left.”_

_“You got in a fight with Tim?” Todd asked surprised, “no, that doesn’t matter.”_

_“It doesn’t?” Damian looked up._

_Todd shrugged again, “you’re safe.”_

_Damian didn’t respond to the statement. He wonders how much he’s made the other’s worry. It likely wasn’t a lot, but then again everyone’s been jumpy since Todd put the mask back on. Damian kind of hates that he did, because it’s changed the feeling of the house._

_“Let’s make a deal?” Todd spoke suddenly._

_Damian tilted his head, “tt, what is it?”_

_“When you get in a fight with Tim, or anyone, and you want to be alone, you can hide out in the wardrobe in my room,” Damian narrows his eyes as Todd holds a finger up, “but you have to tell me that’s where you’ll be.”_

_“Why must I tell you?” Damian sneers._

_“That way someone knows, and B doesn’t lose his mind with worry.”_

_Damian considered the arrangement. Todd was typically hands-off with emotions until he felt like he absolutely had to get involved. Grayson was always wanting to talk about feelings and he didn’t like Drake enough to even entertain the thought. Father shouldn’t know that he had problems within this arrangement, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stay._

_“That is agreeable,” Damian said finally._

_“Wonderful, but now let’s go show everyone you’re alive, and then you can hide out for the rest of the night.”_

* * *

Damian wakes with a start. He hears voices from outside of the room.

“Where could he have gone?” Father’s voice sounds strained.

“Probably where he usually goes to hide out,” Drake’s voice replies, “but I don’t know where that is.”

He slowly slides forward. As he suspected the door remains closed. They didn’t think he would have gone in here for comfort. Damian guesses that this room wouldn’t be comfortable for anyone in this household, but him. Even without Todd's presence this place still feels safe, not as much as it did when he could hear Todd bumping outside of the doors.

“Let’s split up, he’s still in the manor,” Grayson’s voice picks up suddenly, “look in tight spaces.”

Damian waits until there are no sounds from outside the door. He grips the hoodie tightly and then decides that this is the one item he can bring with him. Quietly Damian exits the room and listens for the nearest of his siblings. Grayson is still on this floor, so Damian heads towards him.

At the end of the hall, Grayson stands up from the cabinet he had been looking through. Damian clears his throat, and Grayson spins on his heel and rushes him.

“There you are, where did you go?” Grayson pulls him into a tight hug.

Damian doesn’t want to give up his spot yet, “outside on the balcony.”

Grayson pulls back, “we must have just missed you.”

“I thought I heard father calling for me,” Damian shrugs.

The movement draws attention to the hoodie in his hands. Grayson knows who it is without having to ask, but he blessedly remains quiet on that subject.

“Hey, I found him!” Grayson yells and then Damian can make out two sets of pounding footsteps heading towards them.

Grayson leans back in for the hug, and this time Damian savors it. He doesn’t want to forget this feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thoughts and comments below. Hope you enjoyed!  
> What do you guys wanna see most of all?

**Author's Note:**

> As always leave your thoughts below and constructive and polite criticism is always welcome!


End file.
